GTA IV Give Me Liberty
by DrStrangelovPHD
Summary: my first GTA IV fan-fic, this one an alternate universe in which Niko Bellic becomes a cab driver for his cousin, Roman. As time goes by, witness Niko achieve the American Dream as he runs into a myriad world full of criminal characters. *BASED OFF THE GTA IV VG.* *RATED M for Mature for violence, language, and some sexual situations*
1. Chapter 01: Easy Fare

_**A/N:**__ My first GTA IV fan-fic, and my first one to be rated M for Mature. My fan-fic is an alternate universe based off of the 2008 Grand Theft Auto game: "GTA IV". Follow Niko Bellic as he becomes a cab driver for his cousin, Roman, in the heart of the American Dream metropolis known as Liberty City. Follow Niko as he becomes acquainted with Irish and Russian gangbangers, Jamaican weed dealers, a corrupt police officer, prostitutes, etc._

_This is the first chapter, and I'm in the process of uploading the second one, and writing the third one. So read on and give me feedback and comments._

_Enjoy!_

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CHAPTER 01: EASY FARE

Being a mediocre taxi driver in a strange, unfamiliar city, especially Liberty City, was the only option for an immigrant without papers, therefore being illegal in the United States. Living in a tenement apartment, dressing like a pauper, and finding comfort in the bottle was the same over and over for Niko Bellic. Born in former Yugoslavia, he fought in two civil wars and wished over and over again to make it with the American Dream. He wanted to leave the world of killing, genocide, and human decay for good. Living in a place like America, like Liberty City, might give him a new lease on life.

It instead made it worse. Once he got to Liberty City, he was greeted by his obese, inebriated cousin, Roman. Roman owned a cab company which raked in a little bit of money and made him a small-time entrepreneur. In e-mails to his cousin, Niko, he flaunted love triangles with big-breasted supermodels and buying expensive sports cars. Living in a mansion, with a condo in Vice City and a penthouse in Algonquin, he delighted Niko into coming to Liberty City to experience the American Dream. Once Niko drove past a tenement apartment complex in Broker, he was shocked to hear Roman say, "Stop the car, Niko. We're here."

Niko was amazed, not in a good way. "This is the 'mansion'?"

Roman belched and laughed. "The mansion is coming, cousin."

And then an argument followed once they got into the apartment. A stained carpet covered the floors, peeling wallpaper with nude sluts and B-action movie posters dotted the walls, and a messy, unkempt bed facing a table that was covered with Chinese take-out and pizza boxes, not to mention empty beer cans, littered the countertop. Roman managed to quell his seething and disappointed cousin by offering him a job at the cab company on Mohawk Avenue, the cab company that Roman owned.

"Alright, Roman." Niko sat on the bed, buried his head in his arms, and went to sleep wearing only a pair of ragged blue jeans and a two-bit sweater that his mother had knit for him.

This wasn't the American Dream. This was the American Joke.

* * *

The next morning, Niko awoke and found a rat in the corner of the apartment, munching on a piece of cheese. Wanting to get out of the apartment and away from this sight more than ever, he walked downstairs to the outside street and breathed in some fresh air. Outside, hot dog vendors were peddling their wares, a pastor preached the end of the world by January 2012, and the average Libertonians went about their daily business. Traffic and police cars were common. As Niko crossed the street onto Mohawk Avenue, he saw a prostitute, cinnamon-skinned, and slim, being heckled by two Jamaicans. Niko breathed out and kept walking. Once he entered the cab company's office, he found Roman sitting at a desk, shouting into a CB radio while punching a computer keyboard at the same time. He was complaining about the bridges being closed, an action taken after a terrorist threat on the city by the over-cautious mayor. A soda machine loomed like Godzilla in the far corner of the room, next to a door that led out into the garage.

Roman saw Niko immediately and rushed over to him. "My cousin! How did you sleep?"

"Not good." Niko rubbed the back of his head. "I rather prefer Belgrade to Liberty City, Roman."

"Did you hear? The police impounded the ship last night. So it looks like you're stuck here with me!" He gave Niko a hug. Niko shrugged it off. Soon, he was looking at a beautiful woman with red hair, wearing a gray pantsuit. She looked up at the thirty-two- year-old, Slavic, decrepit looking gentlemen.

Niko was speechless. Roman cut in. "This is Mallorie, the beautiful girl that I tell you about. See, not everything I tell you is bullshit."

Mallorie spoke up in a Latino accent, maybe Puerto Rican. "Hi. Nice to meet you." She then smiled and extended a hand. "I bet your less full of shit than your cousin over here."

They laughed, and Niko shook Mallorie's hand.

Roman butted in. "Niko. I have a fare on the other end of town. His name's Jermaine, black guy, a nice person." Roman took a piece of paper out of his pocket and pressed it into Niko's hand. "He's at this address. Take him wherever he wants to go. I have a question: how much money do you have?"

Niko peeled two wrinkled US dollar bills from his pocket, "$25, why?"

"If you do this for me, I'll give you twenty-five more. This trouble with the Albanians has me through the ringer, and I need all the extra help I can get."

"Okay, Roman, whatever you say." Niko backed away from Roman and walked past the beautiful Mallorie, out of the office and into the garage. A brown four-door Esperanto sedan with the "TAXI" sign on the hood was parked there, the keys in the ignition. He started up the car, found a radio station to his liking, and looked at the piece of paper. "Rotterdam Hill" it read.

Niko put the cab into drive and started down Mohawk. _Twenty-five more dollars better be worth it; I need some new clothes_. He tried to remember about the American traffic laws as he maneuvered towards the streets, passing all walks of life and various shops on his way to Rotterdam Hill. He remembered to drive on the right, obey traffic signals and police, and not to get into an argument. Niko had two middle fingers given to him in a matter of minutes, but he ignored these and kept driving. Nine minutes later, he came to a Korean convenience store and saw a black man in a hooded sweatshirt, smoking a cigarette. It had to be Jermaine. Niko honked the horn, and the black man flipped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and crushed it. He walked over to the car and got into the passenger seat. "_Wassup?_ I'm Jermaine. Where's Roman?"

"Roman couldn't make it." Niko apologized.

"Whatever, dog. Can you take me to Masterson Street?"

"Masterson Street, it is, Jermaine." Niko put the cab into drive and pulled away from the curb.

Jermaine, comfortable in the backseat, said, "I need someone I can trust for this run. Can you help me?"

"Of course. I'm Roman's cousin; if you can trust him, you can trust me."

"Okay. Look. I deal in car parts, some of its on loan. I need to move it from the storage facility to my place in Rotterdam Hill."

"Okay, Jermaine."

"And if any shit goes down," something hit the seat next to Niko. "Take this."

Niko looked at the object on the passenger seat. It was a .40-caliber Glock semiautomatic pistol. _What the hell?_

Jermaine seemed to read Niko's mind. "I know if you're scared, man. Believe me, I am too."

"I haven't fired a gun since the war." Niko said. "I know how to use one though if you want me to watch your back."

"Just follow my lead."

Niko turned left, under an El-Train overpass, and pulled into an alleyway that curved off to the left. As the cab rounded the corner, he saw a garage door left ajar, shelves against the wall empty. The place where Jermaine had stashed the car parts was cleaned out.

"Shit! That door isn't supposed to be open. Wait here while I go take a look." NIko heard the sound of a weapon chambering, and saw Jermaine clutching a Browning Hi-Power, jumping out of the car and running up to the garage door. He stepped inside, looked around, and said to Niko, "One-time's raided the spot! _Motherfuckers!"  
_  
"'One-time?'" Niko was confused. He'd already been in Liberty City for ten hours, and being exposed to gang lingo was something new to him, let alone his first job.

Just then, a police siren sounded from the other end of the alley. Turning around, Niko saw a white-and-blue police car screech up feet away from the cab and stop. A cop got out, dressed in a blue uniform with a silver badge and wearing tinted sunglasses. "This is the Liberty City Police Department! Stay where you are!"

"Shit, money!" Jermaine shouted at Niko, before opening up with his Browning. A slick weapon that can hold twelve rounds in each magazine, Jermaine emptied the clip in five seconds before reloading. By that time, Niko had already reached over for the Glock, and looking up, saw that the cop was gripping his side in anguish, drawing his pistol with his free hand.

Niko was hesitant before firing back, but he didn't blast away like Jermaine. Niko fired two shots at the cop, deliberately missing, blowing out the driver's-side window before yelling at Jermaine to get back into the car. Niko slid the gear shifter's needle into D as Jermaine cursed at the police before reloading and firing more shots at the squad car.

By this point, Niko was panicking. He was a newcomer in Liberty City, and already in trouble with the law. Not to mention that he didn't have any legal papers proving that he was in the country. It was like he didn't exist.

"Let's go, dog!" Jermaine shouted as the cop returned fire with his pistol. Jermaine leapt into the front seat and the taxi punched forward, scraping past the squad car with only inches to spare. By the time that they were on the street, another cop car had appeared. Jermaine rolled down the window and fired at the oncoming vehicle gangbanger-style. The taxi hopped a curb, knocked over a few trash cans and a newspaper machine, before skidding right onto another street and away from the police. After a while, Jermaine, pistol in hand, still looking over his shoulder, breathed, "I think we lost them, money."

"What the fuck did you do back there?" Niko shouted. "You could've killed that cop!"

"It's just one cop who should've stayed at home with his wife and kids! Now he's lived to die another day."

"You're crazy, Jermaine!"

"Thanks to the 5-0, I'm out $1,200 bucks_! Motherfuckers!_"

"I'm sorry for your loss." Niko sounded a tad sympathetic as he swung the car onto a thoroughfare.

"Man, you did good out there, dog. Now, listen: take me to Teton Avenue, the Homebrew Café."

"Okay." Niko swung the Esperanto onto F Street and blended into the midday traffic.

"You've got a lot to learn, Niko." Jermaine warned. "Mr. Nicholausen will find you some good work. Paying work, if that's what you're looking for. He's a Jamaican who runs a delivery company."

"And what does he deliver? Brownies?"

Jermaine laughed. "Grade-A Kingston Chronic. It's sweet stuff, dog: marijuana."  
"Ah." Niko asked, "Does this Mr. Nicholausen pay as good as my cousin?"

"Yes, but only if you do his work for him. If you become friends with him, you become friends with every Jamaican in Liberty City."

Niko soon stopped alongside a green-shaded building with a mural-painted sign that read: "Homebrew Café". He looked back at Jermaine and announced, "Last stop, friend."

"Thanks, dog." Jermaine peeled off a fifty dollar-bill and handed it to him. "Come by the café tomorrow and Mr. Nichoulasen'll see you. He pays good money."

"Alright, then. See you soon, Jermaine." Niko watched as his first customer exited the cab and walked into the Homebrew Café. He crumpled the fifty dollar-bill into his pocket, and then put the cab into drive and pulled away. He called Roman on the cab's CB and told him that the fare was done.

Roman's voice replied: "Okay, Cousin. Come back to the depot to receive your pay. Thanks a lot."

Niko swung the Esperanto onto the Broker-Dukes Expressway, heading back into Hove Beach. When he got to the brown building next to the docks, he stopped the cab in the garage and got out. He walked into Roman's office to find his cousin yelling into the CB, with Mallorie at his side. She acknowledged Niko with a warm smile and then looked over to Roman who was having an argument with one of his drivers. "What do you mean the bridges are closed? You're a cab driver, Mohammed!...You mean all of them?... Well, blame the fuckin' terrorists! What, I don't mean you!... OK…"

Niko cleared his throat, making Roman look up at him. It was then his pudgy cousin put down the CB receiver and handed Niko a twenty and a five, all green and crispy. It was then Roman scoffed, "First the Albanian loan sharks are after me, now the Mayor of Liberty City has closed all the bridges because of terrorist activity! These kinds of things are bad for business!" He calmed down, asking, "How did the ride with Jermaine go?"

"Smoothly." Niko replied, putting the wanted level, the shootout, and the illegal gun sale behind him.

Roman replied, "That's good. Go take this money and buy yourself some new clothes, something more 'twenty-first century.'"

Niko asked, "Do you know any good stores?"

"I know just the place. It's on Mohawk in Hove Beach. Also, you look a little bit skinny. Go and get something to eat while you're at it." Then Roman picked up the CB receiver and yelled into it, "Car seven, go to South Slopes. Move your ass, Mohammed!" Then a phone on his desk started to ring, and Roman threw down the CB and picked up the phone, switching voice tones to a casual one, "Hello, thank you for calling Roman Bellic Enterprises, how may I help you?"

Niko left Roman to his work and walked out of the office, giving Mallorie a wink on the way out. He walked away from the cab depot to a boutique-style store with a sign in Russian two blocks away. The poster on the window said in English, "Good clothes at good prices!" Niko pushed open the door and walked into what looked like a discount clothing store. There were racks of shirts, blouses, faded jeans, and track gear everywhere. Cases containing cheap sunglasses and jewelry were by the checkout desk. Shelves of shoes, boots, and hats hung on the walls. A fitting room was in the back corner of the store. Music crackled softly from the ceiling, and the air smelled like cigarettes and dark-roast coffee. A woman appeared from behind the counter and said in broken English, "Good clothes, you see I have good clothes, yes?"

Niko nodded politely and went to look at the stock on display. He picked out a pair of green fatigue pants and a faded green army jacket, paying and leaving the store to hear the woman say in a gravelly Russian accent, "Yes, Yes, bye-bye."

Walking away from the clothing store, Niko felt a pang in his gut, the consequence for skipping breakfast. He found a hotdog cart run by a grizzled Mexican who spoke with a lisp as he dealt the Slav a hotdog with tangy mustard and relish. Niko paid only $5 for the meal, eating it in less than four bites. "Thank you." He said, making a note of the first, low-budget hotdog he ate in America.

He then walked across the street to the apartment that Roman called "the mansion". Climbing the stairs to the third level, Niko unlocked the door and instantly found the soiled sofa and sat down on it, tuning into a reality show called "America's Next Top Hooker", beaming in from a small television set on a stand. Niko strayed away from the trash TV, calling Roman on the house phone. "Hello, cousin. I got some new clothes. It looks like the same crap they sell in the Old Country."

Roman laughed, "Just live with it, Niko. Soon we will have all the clothes from Modo and Perseus, a penthouse in Algonquin, a Sentinel in every garage, and most of all, women, asses, and titties!"

Niko settled his cousin down in his native Serbian, before hanging up the phone. Looking at the clock, he realized it was only five pm. _Time to sleep, I guess._ Niko turned off the TV and curled up on the couch, still sleeping in his new clothes.

_Some first day in the American Joke_. Niko laughed to himself as he slept in his new clothes from the Russian store.


	2. Chapter 02: The Bleeder

_**A/N:** __This chapter is my adaptation of how Niko deals with those Albanian hoods/loan sharks - after a gut-busting dinner at Burger Shot!  
Chapter 3 is in the works  
Enjoy! _

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**CHAPTER 02: THE BLEEDER**

Niko awoke to the sight of his cousin, Roman, who had just returned home from the cab depot. "Hello, cousin!"

Niko stood up on the floor, trying to oust the pang in his head from being rudely awakened. "What are you doing, Roman?" He asked in Serbian.

"Don't you know what time it is?"

Niko only shrugged.

"It's dinnertime, cousin. Get your head out of the gutter and let's go to Burger Shot!"

"Burgers what?" Niko asked.

Roman grabbed his cousin's arm and pulled him towards the door to the hallway, grabbing his car keys as he went along. Roman explained to Niko all about the cheapness and omnipresent fast food joints: Burger Shot, Cluckin' Bell, Pizza This, Komodo Express, all over Liberty City. Roman unlocked the door to the Esperanto cab and got in the passenger seat, calling out, "You drive, cousin."

Niko got into the Esperanto and drove away, tuning into Radio Vladivostok, much to the delight of Roman. He told him of a Burger Shot restaurant on Cisco Street in Beechwood City. After a short drive on the Broker-Dukes Expressway, they came to a red-roofed building with big windows and a drive-thru lane. Niko slid into the small parking lot and switched off the car. It was then Roman handed Niko something—a cell phone.

Roman explained: "I'm giving you my old phone. Use it until you get a fancier one like mine. Then you would have _really _made it! Come on, let's eat!" Roman got out of the car and started up to the restaurant.

Looking down at the mercenary mobile phone's screen, the time read 9:16 p.m. As Niko stepped out of the car, the smell of charbroiled meat mixed with the smog in the air and the saltwater from the shore. Niko also smelt ganja, marijuana, and saw two Burger Shot employees wearing red shirts smoking joints around the corner from the restaurant's back exit. Ignoring the two stoned servers, Niko walked with Roman into the Burger Shot and approached the counter, where a red-shirted mulatto woman asked them what they wanted. Roman did all the talking, ordering himself and Niko two Bleeder burgers with large size French fries and large E-Colas. When they got their order, Roman squeezed into a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. He unwrapped his Bleeder burger and lifted it to his mouth. "Tonight, we dine like kings!"

"_More like pigs!" _Niko groaned as he looked down at the calorific cheeseburger and crispy-cut fries, and he took a fry and ate it slowly. Roman was busy enjoying his burger. It was then that Niko asked his cousin, "Why did you send all those e-mails to Mom and myself?"

Roman wiped some ketchup and zesty sauce stains from the corners of his mouth, saying, "I just wanted it to make it more interesting."

"And to think I believed you owned seven sports cars and had a Midwest housewife named Linda who sucks like a vacuum! Mr. Roman Bellic—Mr. Big Shot, from nothing to everything in two years."

Roman chuckled, "We will get there soon, cousin. My cab company is going to take us to the top of the pile!"

"And what about these Albanians, Roman? You say there's no stopping them."

"Darden and Bledar helped me get TVs, computers, cell phones, everything. You didn't know how long it took for me to start the business. First, I bought a cab, then another, and then I opened up the depot. All thanks to Darden and the Albanians."

"You shouldn't borrow money you can't pay back, Roman. They might come after you and your business. They might even hurt you or kill you."

Roman finished his king-size E-Cola and took his finished tray and dumped it into a trash can. He looked at Niko and said, "To achieve the American Dream, cousin, you always must _believe_in yourself."

"_I hope you know what you're talking about, Roman."_Niko cautioned in Serbian. He dumped his tray and then walked with Roman out to the parking lot. Niko had the car keys in his hand and opened up Roman's cab, getting into the driver's seat. "Take us home, cousin," Roman ordered, punctuated it with a loud belch.

As Niko began to pull away, a beige Willard sedan pulled up to the exit of the parking lot, cutting them off. Two men in heavy jackets and track pants got out, one of them clutching an aluminum baseball bat. They were shouting in something that Niko recognized as Albanian—the loan sharks that Roman was so worried about.

One of the loan sharks in a red hockey jacket hefted the baseball bat and swung it down onto the hood of the Esperanto, he shouted, "Come out, piggy, and let's do business!"

Roman quivered in the cab, "Shit! Niko! That's Kalem and Bledar! Let's get out of here!"

But instead of throwing the cab in reverse and flooring it in the opposite direction, Niko unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, his dominant hand going towards the Glock .40 he's acquired from earlier in the day. As he got out of the cab, the man with the baseball bat slammed it down onto the hood with a _bang_. He turned to face Niko, and waved the bat at him, "You must be piggy's cousin!"

The second one stated, "Our problem's with Roman, not you!"

Before Niko could say anything, the Albanian with the baseball bat swung in Niko's direction. Niko ducked to avoid the blow, and then came up swinging. A punch in the ribs, one in the solar plexus, and another in the gut, made the Albanian drop the bat and hunch over. Niko picked up the bat and beat the Albanian in his legs, knocking him to the ground. As the bat-wielding loan shark was taken out of the fight, the second one pulled a serrated knife with a long blade. The stainless steel twinkled in the dim lights in the parking lot. "Come on, if you have the guts!" he called.

Niko dropped the baseball bat and reached into the waistband of his jeans for the Glock. As he pulled it out, the Albanian replied, "I'm going to make you squeal like a piggy!"

Niko fired a single hollow-point .40-caliber round into the knife-wielding Albanian's arm. Bone shatters, the hood drops the knife, clutching his useless arm in pain. Niko walks over to the man, points the gun at his head.

But before the Slav immigrant/cabbie could take a life, Roman rushes into the line of fire, grabs Niko's arm and pulling it away from the Albanian's head. The Glock barked once, the bullet hitting the pavement and ricocheting underneath the Willard. Roman yells at his cousin, "Niko! Shit! What are you doing?!"

Niko looks down into the wounded Albanian's eyes, stares into his skull, and says, "That's how I think of your business practices!"

Roman is frantic now, for people in the Burger Shot venture out to see what's happened in the parking lot. Roman says, "Drop the gun, Niko! Let's get out of here!"

Niko hits the clip-release button on the Glock's handle, the clip slides out, and jacks the action to eject the remaining round. He then drops the pistol beside the wounded Albanian. He walked away from the wounded man, back into the Esperanto, and sped off in the opposite direction. Getting on the Broker-Dukes Expressway, he noticed an ambulance and a police car racing past them, lights and siren on to slow traffic. Niko entered the Hove Beach tenement complex and stopped the car in the residential parking lot beside the curb.

As he switched off the engine, Niko imagined the Albanian hoods being loaded into an ambulance, then being rushed to a hospital in Schottler.

Whatever Niko felt towards the Albanians was gone now, he only was glad that his cousin wasn't hurt. They were home now and safe, at least for now.

"Come on, cousin." Roman got out of the cab and went into the tenements, acting like Niko's actions had never happened. As Niko got out of the car and entered and climbed the stairs to the apartment, he opened the door to find Roman getting out a bottle of pure-tasting Russian vodka. "Shit! Niko! What did you do?"

Niko calmly replied: "I did it only to protect you, cousin."

"I know what you're like, Niko Bellic," Roman scoffed, slamming down a double shot of vodka, "But you fucking kicked the hornet's nest with this one. You know who these guys work for?"

Niko had only been in the country for 38 hours and never grasped the criminal elements operating in Liberty City. "No, I do not."

"Very…dangerous…men, Niko Bellic." Roman slammed down another shot of vodka before passing the bottle off to his cousin, who took it and poured it into a glass for hygienic reasons.

Niko looked at his cousin, "At least you don't have to deal with them anymore."

"Just you wait, Niko! First they will come after me and my business, and then they'll come after you! Hove Beach is a very small place, and they'll find you—Fucking Albanian hoods!"

Niko drank a little bit of the vodka, made special for the old Tsar Peter the Great, saying, "You shouldn't be sucking shit for them, cousin, you know that."

"If I wanted to buy a stolen TV, a new cell phone, money to pay the rent, I go to Darden."

"Darden?"

"He's the top Albanian hood in Hove Beach. These people are like rats, and Darden has some very sharp teeth!"

"It doesn't matter anymore. As long as you're safe."

Roman took the bottle away from Niko and did a double-shot of vodka, straight up,"Those Albanians don't know who they're fucking with…_BELLIC ENTERPRISES_…That's who!"

_"Get some sleep, cousin, you're drunk."_Niko suggested in Serbian.

"Me and you, Niko, we're going to the top…the top! Just you wait and see!" he let out a big belch and then he got ready for bed.

Niko lay down on the fold-out mattress in his fatigue jacket. He set the clock alarm for eight o'clock, and then he fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 03: Jamaican Heat

_**A/N:**__ Chapter 03 of "GTA: Give Me Liberty". In this chapter, Niko does some house cleaning for the Jamaican drug runner, Sammy Nichoulausen. This mission is kind of like "Concrete Jungle" from GTA IV with Little Jacob, except with Jermaine. Also, Niko's cousin, Roman, runs into some Albanian hoods wanting revenge from Chapter 02._

Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER 03: JAMAICAN HEAT**

The clock alarm droned exactly at eight o'clock the next morning. Niko Bellic awoke and almost stepped on a fat rat that scurried under the bed. _"SHIT!" _Niko cursed in his vernacular. He was pissed that he was living in a shithole apartment, which reminded Niko of the war-torn slums of Belgrade and Sarajevo. As Niko found an energy bar in the pantry in the kitchen, he noticed Roman was gone, probably back at the cab depot. Niko put on his boots and started down the stairs to the street. He walked outside to find mobsters of various dialects, Romanian, Russian, Bulgarian, Serbs, going about their daily business. A _Liberty Tree_ newspaper delivery truck was parked outside of the Russian clothing store, stocking the paper dispensers on the curb. Niko waited until the truck left, then he pulled out 50¢ from his jacket pocket and slid it into the slot of the dispenser. In a few minutes, he had the _Liberty Tree_ in his hands, the front page screamed: "BRIDGES CLOSED, MAYOR OCHOA DECLARES." A subtitle read: "Precautions in effect for two weeks; Libertonians enraged."

Niko walked along Mohawk Avenue whilst reading the paper. Caught up in distraction, he bumped into a Slavic-looking man, who cursed at him in Albanian and reached towards his pocket for a weapon. Niko apologized to the man in broken English, and then he walked as far away from the threat as possible. He tossed the newspaper in a trash can and walked into Roman's cab depot. Roman was on the phone in his office. Mallorie, the Puerto Rican countess who Niko found stunning, held a paper cup of coffee in her hand and sipped slowly, sitting at another desk beside Roman's.

Roman looked up from the phone, saying, "Ah, he's here now."

Niko went towards the vending machine for a Sprunk soda, feeding a wrinkled bill into the machine and punching the button, a can of lemon-lime soda popped out and Niko took it and drank it thirstily. It was then that Roman said, "Niko, the phone for you."

Niko went over to Roman's desk and took the receiver from him. "Hello?"

A voice came over the phone, "Niko Bellic?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"My dog, it's Jermaine! D'you remembers me, money?"

"Of course." Niko dragged the shootout, the police chase into the forefront of his mind, something he didn't want to relive again.

"Ay, dog, my friend Mr. Nichoulasen wants to see you right away. Come pick me up in Rotterdam Hill and I'll take you to him."

Niko hung up, and Roman said to him, "Take the cab, Niko."

"Thanks." He walked out to the garage and got into the Esperanto. He drove off towards Rotterdam Hill, and stopped in front of a street-level townhouse. A black man wearing a Bob Marley hoodie was sitting outside on the stoop. Niko sounded the horn and the man jumped up and ran over to Niko. "Hey, dog, _wassup_?"

"Everything's good, Jermaine," Niko responded as his passenger got into the front seat. "You'll take me to Mr. Nichoulasen, eh?"

"Yeah. I put in a good word for you, told him about you saving my ass from the police. He wants to see you."

"Okay, where is this Nichoulasen located?"

"The Homebrew Café in Beechwood City."

Niko put the cab into drive and started towards the expressway. He tuned into Tuff Gong, playing "Pimpers' Paradise" by Bob Marley & the Wailers. It was then Jermaine asked him, "So, you're Roman's cousin, huh? Niko Bellic, ladies' man cruising around the Mediterranean, breaking hearts and making millions?"

Niko laughed, obviously this story came from his cousin, Roman, "Yeah, I traded in my yacht for this cab. This is only one in a whole heap of bullshit I can imagine Roman making up. You must give him credit for his imagination."

The cab pulled up to the Homebrew Café, teeming with Jamaicans outside in green SUVs and low-riders. The stench of grade-A ganja filled the air as Niko got out of the cab and walked into the Café. Inside, the place reeked of more marijuana and baked goods. A man sat at a table, a marijuana roach between his lips. "Dis be Niko?" he asked.

Niko looked at the man, wearing a track jacket with yellow stripes on the sleeves, the same with his pants. A bulge under his armpit gave the telltale sign of a concealed firearm. But the Slav stood his ground, and the man relented, allowing Niko to have a seat facing Mr. Nichoulausen. "I believe you have work for me?" Niko asked Mr. Nichoulausen.

"There's plenty of product in Liberty City, boatloads of good ganja come in every day. The only problem is finding men to distribute them. So, let me ask you, Niko Bellic, are you a cop?"

"No."

"FIB, DEA?"

"No."

Mr. Nichoulausen lit up a marijuana-rolled blunt and smoked in Niko's presence. The Slav's nose twitched and a taste entered his mouth, both not in a good way. Mr. Nichoulausen's lips smiled through the blunt, "Respect. I need someone who isn't an Islander, a Rasta, to keep my clients in line and the cash flowing. Are you up for it?"

"I guess so."

"Respect. Now, there are some Rastas in Willis who think they can hustle me and get away with it. They take my product and shave off a little money for themselves. These guys live in a townhouse off Savannah Avenue. Go there and take care of them."  
"And…" Niko asked.  
"I'll give you $500 for it and a slice of our business."  
Niko's eyes widened. Although half a grand isn't enough to buy a car or an apartment away from his cousin's shitty hovel, it was worth a start. "Okay."

"Respect, man." Mr. Nichoulausen laughed. "By the way, you can call me Sammy."

"Alright," Niko said, "So you want me to kill people?"

"Yes. Jermaine will go with you."

Niko looked at Jermaine, who shoved a Browning Hi-Power pistol into the waistband of his pants and zipped up his hoodie to cover it. It was then he said to Niko, "Let's go." And both men walked out of the Homebrew Café to the curb, where a vintage '77 Virgo with a streamlined finish sat outside. Jermaine had the keys in his hand as he got into the driver's seat, Niko sliding in next to him. As they drove off towards Meadows Park, Jermaine asked Niko, "I know you can do this, money. I know it!" He tuned the radio to Tuff Gong and stopped at a red light to ignite a blunt. "D'you mind if we keep the windows closed? Hotbox it, see?"

Niko wished he had rolled down the windows, because the stench of the roach was unbearable. As Jermaine continued to drive and smoke, Niko asked him, "How does a black gangbanger like you start to work for the Jamaicans?"

"Well, money, it's tough out there on these streets. Besides Russkies, they're Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Italians, some Chinese, and a tad bit of Yakuza in the mix. Liberty City's a land of opportunity, money. All we want is to make a few bucks."

"Tell me about it." Niko sighed as he cranked up the A/C to drown out the marijuana fumes.

The car stopped alongside a brick row house on Savannah Avenue in Meadow's Park. Jermaine, his eyes red from the hemp, his demeanor as cool as a cucumber, told Niko, "Okay, money, get ready."

Niko opened the glove compartment to find a weapon, anything. He found a snub-nose .357 Magnum revolver inside and checked the cylinder, all six chambers loaded. He stuck it into his pocket and snatched a box of .357 hollow-point shells as Jermaine got out of the car and started up towards the steps to the row house.

Niko exited the car and walked up the steps to the door. Jermaine had already sought cover at the nearby wall and asked, "You ready, money?"

"Yeah." Niko dug the revolver out of his pocket and tilted the hammer back to full-cock.

Jermaine kicked open the door and raised the Browning 9 mm. Two shots from it felled a Jamaican coming down the stairs. Another Jamaican appeared in the doorway between the foyer and the sitting room, his eyes red from ganja, clutching a pistol. Jermaine shot him too, and swung into the house, looking for more targets.

Niko entered right behind Jermaine, bringing up the rear as a burst of pistol fire came from the sitting room/kitchen. He rushed in, finding two more Jamaicans dead on the floor, guns nearby and the place reeking of marijuana. A table contained a 9-mm pistol and small bundles of cash and product. The Jamaicans in the kitchen weren't moving, each had been shot twice in the head, one victim nearest the refrigerator was shot multiple times at point-blank range.

Jermaine hit the magazine-release button on the Browning, slapping in a new clip. He ordered, "Gather up the money and the drugs, and let's get out of here!"

Niko took a wad of $50 bills and stuck them in his pockets, a small finder's fee for his work.

Jermaine gathered up three parcels of marijuana and started back through the sitting room to the car. Just as he was coming to the door, a voice called out, "_Motherfucker, _you killed mai boy!" Jermaine spun around, finding a sole-surviving Jamaican bolting down the stairs, a short-barreled AKSU assault rifle in his hands with a forty-round banana magazine inserted. He raised his gun to blast Jermaine, but two shots from the Slav struck the Jamaican in the legs, he toppled down the rest of the stairs. As Niko advanced, he looked at the Jamaican's red-glazed eyes and put the Colt to his head.

"You a dead man, you hear me!" the Jamaican spat.

Niko pulled the trigger, and the man's dreadlocks were red with blood from a headshot. It was then the Slav stopped and inspected his first kill. He noted the AKSU rifle that the man still clutched even in death. Niko took it, ejected the clip, and inspected it. The magazine was full, so he put it back into the gun. He rifled the man's pockets and came up with two more spare clips. Niko stuffed them into the waistband of his fatigue pants and he started towards the front door and down the stairs. Niko ran to the Virgo, got into it, and sped off just as the faint wail of police sirens was heard steadily approaching the row house.

About two blocks from the row house, the Virgo made a U-turn and entered the Broker-Dukes Expressway. In ten minutes they made it to the Homebrew Café, where Niko parked the Virgo in the alley around the back of the green-painted building. Two Jamaicans, including Sammy, were waiting for them as Niko turned the key to the "off" position.

Jermaine exited the Virgo and ran around to the back, unlocking the trunk. Inside was two bales of money—bound with paper straps stamped with the denomination $5,000, and two parcels containing the Kingston Kush.

Sammy was pleased with what he saw. He beamed and turned to Niko and Jermaine, "Mad job, ya guys rolled hard tonight, ya know?" He reached into the pocket of his cream-colored suit and took out a billfold. He peeled off $500 and handed it to Niko. Sammy then gave Jermaine his cut. "You did well, guys. The Kush will be stored here until it is safe to transport it." He turned to Jermaine and ordered him to take the car to the long-term parking lot at Francis International Airport, on the easternmost side of Dukes, and dump it. Sammy then dismissed Niko, who returned to the brown Esperanto cab and got in. He did a U-turn and headed through Willis to Schottler, where he called Roman and told him that he would be returning to the cab depot.

But Roman seemed in trouble. He stammered as he spoke, and then said, "Leave me alone!" Some cursing in Serbian, and then, "Look, Darden, let's be reasonable here." The line then went dead.

Niko dropped his newly-acquired cell phone to the car's floorboards and stepped on the gas, blowing through a red light and screeching through an intersection. Car horns blared, angry drivers' shouted, and gave Niko the one-finger salute. Niko ignored them and did a hairpin turn onto Onedia Avenue, jumping through two more red lights, enduring more expletives and middle fingers.

_How could this have happened?_ Niko thought frantically in Serbian. He slammed on the brakes to pull off another turn onto Mohawk Avenue, and then he drove past the apartment to the cab depot. Niko hit the brakes, the Esperanto screeching to a stop.

Before jumping out, Niko checked his pockets for the box of .357 ammo. It was still there. He then did a check of the revolver's cylinder, counting three shots fired and three unfired shells still inside. Niko reloaded the revolver, wrist-flicking the cylinder shut before sticking it in his pocket as he got out of the cab and started up to the door of the cab depot's office.

_ I'm coming, cousin._ Niko hoped Roman was still alive and in one piece.


	4. Chapter 04: Bleed Out

**_A/N:_**_ Chapter 04 in its entirety. This is when Niko finally deals with the Albanian loan sharks led by Darden, who are still trying to hustle Roman. Part of this chapter takes from the "GTA: IV" mission "Bleed Out". Also, I introduce Lola Del Rio, the prostitute and so-called "Lollipop Girl" seen on the box cover of "GTA: IV". She's in a bit of a jam, so Niko has to help her out until the bridges are reopened again._**  
**

_Enjoy, rate, subscribe and/or comment, no rush!_

Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER 04: BLEED-****OUT**

Niko heard Roman yelp from behind the office door. Leveling the .357, The Slav burst in, finding one person intimidating Roman while another ripped the computer from the desktop and smashed it on the ground. When they found Niko standing in the doorway, holding a gun, they righted themselves and faced their would-be assailant.

One of them, wearing a Liberty City Swingers baseball jersey, said, "Fatty Roman's cousin comes to save him again!"

The other, holding Roman in a headlock, released his grip and pulled a Browning 9 mm from his waistband, holding it first at Niko, then at Roman's head. "Come any closer, and I'll splatter his brains to the wall!"

Roman tried to say something, "Niko, please help!"

But the man with the piece silenced him, "Shut up, piggy! You owe us money, now where is it?!"

Niko recognized the man holding the piece as the man named Kalem. The man he'd attacked at Burger Shot last night. He seemed to be fine, straight out of the hospital, and back into a life of crime.  
_  
"You should've taken the hint last night!"_ Niko taunted.

The man with the 9 mm raised it to blast Niko, but the door to the garage opened and another man stepped in, holding a pistol with an elongated barrel. He faced Niko and raised his pistol, a Glock 20L, at him.

Roman cried out, "Darden, please, I can get you the money!"

"How long has it been, piggy, two years? _Motherfuck two years _since you've owed me!"

Niko locked onto Darden, the ringleader of the so-called Albanian loan sharks that prowled Hove Beach and Broker, preying on the newcomers to America, the innocent and the weak. Niko said, "You should get out of here, friend."

Darden raised his Glock, shouting, "We'll get out of here when piggy Roman gives us _our motherfucking money!_"

Roman cried out, "Darden, please, give me some time."

Darden shifted the gun towards Roman. "Time's up, fatty! You either give us the money or you die!"

Kalem and Bledar moved to Niko still standing in the doorway. Kalem's Browning 9 mm was pointed at Niko's stomach. Kalem, on the other hand, had his arm in a sling, still taking time to heal after Niko shattered it with a .40 hollow-point bullet.

Before either Albanian could make a move on Niko, the Serb fired the .357 snub twice at both men, dropping them with gaping wounds in their chests. Niko then swung the revolver to Darden and fired twice, but Darden, seeing his comrades go down, ducked out of the way into the garage. He stuck his pistol through the open doorway and fired blindly.

Niko ducked behind the vending machine as bullets from Darden's Glock hammered into it. The Serb opened the cylinder and flicked out the spent shells, shoving in new ones, and wrist-flicking the cylinder shut. As Niko stepped out from behind the Sprunk machine, he heard footsteps retreating and the _click-clack_ of a weapon being reloaded and chambered. Niko approached the door and opened it, seeing Darden take off in the beige Willard.

_You're not getting away, this time, Darden!_ Niko thought as he collected Roman from under his desk, going outside to the Esperanto, jumping into it, Niko putting the petal to the metal as the cab sped off towards Darden's car.

Roman cried, "This is all your fault!"

"I'm not going to let Darden get in the way again." Niko was determined as he caught up with the Willard at the intersection of Oneida and Mohawk. The chase continued into the dry docks, both cars dodging traffic, semi-trailer trucks and forklifts amongst a chorus of expletives and middle fingers.

Roman was furious now, "Me and you are going to show them! Fucking Darden smashing my fucking stuff, who does he think he is?! We will show them that _BELLIC ENTERPRISES _takes no prisoners!"

_"Whatever, cousin,"_ Niko replied in Serbian, cutting around an E-Cola transport truck to find the Willard smashed, pinned in a corner. Stepping out of the car, Niko saw a bloody and dazed Darden emerge from the wreck and head up a flight of steps to the warehouses.

Niko went up the steps, dodging bullets from Darden's gun. When the sole surviving Albanian hood got up to the top, he taunted, "Your cousin owes us money, shithead!"

Niko fired back, driving Darden into a warehouse. Niko reloaded, trying to contemplate the situation. Should he dash in and try to take Darden down? He's got to be running low on ammo, so am I. If it gets down to hand-to-hand, so be it.

Niko stepped into the warehouse with the snub drawn, finding Darden with nowhere else to run. With a deranged look on his face, the Albanian raised his pistol and fired. A cool breeze floated by Niko's right ear. As the hood tried to shoot back some more, Niko went into a protective crouch, aimed, and fired the snub into Darden's chest. As the Albanian loan shark fell back, Niko raised the gun and fired into Darden's forehead, above his left eye. Darden's dead weight on a glass window broke, and he tumbled off the roof into the water.

Niko reloaded again, standing over Darden's dropped Glock 20L and picking it up, putting it in his pocket. He then turned around and walked out of the warehouse and down the steps to Roman's car. _This's what we owe you, Darden, and nothing else_. He thought.

The drive back to the depot was quick, although when Roman stepped inside the cab depot, he looked at the bodies of Kalem and Bledar, who were dead on the floor, little puddles of blood surrounding them. Roman exclaimed, "_Shit! Shit! Shit!_ Niko, look at this place!"

_"I'm sorry, cousin," _Niko apologized in Serbian, "I did what I had to do."

"Look, Niko," Roman was sweating out of fear, and seemed to have wet himself, "Get out of here before the police come. Meet me at the apartment in two hours." He then followed Niko out of the cab depot office onto Mohawk Avenue. "I will have your mess cleaned up by then. Just go, _GO!"_

_"Alright._" Niko left the office and started walking down Mohawk Avenue. Passing by the discount Russian clothing store, his cell phone started to ring. Niko fished it out of his pocket and hit a button, and a black man's voice came to his ear: "Hey, Niko, _'Sup?"  
_  
"Er, hello?" Niko wasn't quite sure who the caller was, and was about to hang up when the voice spoke again, "It's Jermaine. You did really good helping me out with Mr. Nichoulausen earlier today. Come by the Homebrew Café, I want to introduce you to someone."

"Okay." Niko hung up and then hailed the first prowling yellow taxicab he saw. He told the driver to take him to Beechwood City, also punctuating to step on it. The cabbie pulled off enthralling turns, travelling in the oncoming lane, and blowing through red lights. At the Broker-Dukes Expressway, the cabbie let off his Serb passenger to the fare of $25. Niko stepped back into the Homebrew Café and back into the ganja-anomalous lounge coupled with easy-going reggae. Niko found Sammy Nichoulausen sitting at a table with an 8-ball pipe in one hand and a mixed drink in the other. Sammy told Niko to sit down, and soon the Slav was looking face-to-face with an elegant, shapely, redheaded knockout woman. A lollipop twirled from in-between her lips like a cigarette as she spoke, "Hi, how ya doin?"

Niko was stunned. And he _thought_ Mallorie was the countess of Liberty City. "Er…"

Sammy spoke up in a hoarse whisper, the effects of the weed already contaminating his brain. "Niko Bellic, this is the lovely Lola Del Rio. Lola, meet Niko.

Lola looked up from the coffee she was drinking, "Hi, Nicky."

Sammy spoke up, "Great! Now you both know each other! Listen, Niko, Lola's new to the streets. She's working her tricks down in Star Junction, but the bridges are closed."

Lola took a sip of coffee, showing the worriment in her large brown eyes, "Closed bridges are bad for business, hon."

Sammy smiled, "Yep. So she needs someone to show her around Dukes and Broker, you know, survive until the bridges open up. Whaddya say?"

Niko almost laughed, "You mean to be like her pimp-daddy?"

"No, _mon. _Her _protector_. First, you got to look after her, make sure all her needs are met. You have to be like a fly on shit. A hundred eyes everywhere, ya know?"

Niko was still curious, "And this protection stuff, it pays, yes?"

"Yes, money." Everyting will be a'ight."

Lola finished the coffee she was drinking and pushed her cup and saucer aside. She then said to Niko, "Let's go, hon." Still sucking on the lollipop, she and the Slav headed to the door and outside to the alley. She asked, "Where's your car?"

"Where's yours?" Niko shot back.

"Um, ladies don't drive themselves, this is what men are for."

To Niko Bellic, this was unacceptable. First it was fighting a drug war with the Jamaicans, now it was babysitting a prostitute?! "Thanks, Sammy, appreciate this, man." Niko scoffed as he leaned against a mailbox, thinking of a plan. He noticed an apartment complex looming off in the background and equated that there would be a car park there.

He then said to Lola, "Come on."


	5. Chapter 05: First Date

_**A/N:**__ Niko Bellic babysits Lola Del Rio, the lollipop-licking loose prostitute from the artwork and box cover of "GTA IV". We see Niko commit his first act of stealing a car as he tries to forge a friendship with the prostitute. The next chapter, "When the Women Come Out To Dance", will feature Roman meeting Lola for the first time at Hercules, a club from "GTA | Episodes from Liberty City: Ballad of Gay Tony"_

_Enjoy_!

CHAPTER 05: FIRST DATE

The Slav and his escort reached the parking lot of a hostile-looking housing project Stone Street in Meadow's Park. Graffiti covered the walls, a faint duel between East Coast and West Coast rap echoed back and forth from the first two buildings. Men in hoodies and do-rags hung around by the deserted basketball court, passing around a paper-wrapped 40-oz bottle among them. The stench of kali loomed over the complex.

Niko felt unwelcomed in this part of town. He went behind his waist and pulled the Glock 20L out of his trouser band. First, he did a brass check of the chamber, finding a .10 millimeter round seated inside. Next, the Slav slid the magazine out and inspected the clip's contents: eleven rounds out of fifteen. Satisfied, Niko slapped in the new clip and slid the safety on, keeping the Glock low at his side.

The cars in the parking lot were mostly low-riders: Manamas and Stallions with lift kits and flashy chrome rims on the tires. Niko found a '78 Sabre GT—a vintage muscle car—sky blue with a white streamline stripe. The doors were left unlocked, so Niko quietly pushed Lola in and slid in behind the skeleton steering-wheel of the car. The keys weren't in the ignition, so Niko felt for the fuse box with the palm of his hand, found it, and tore the cover off and ripped out a rainbow coalition of wires. He stripped one set of wires and crossed them together, and the engine kicked over, the twin V6s roaring to life. This, however, caught the attention of the men on the basketball court, who dropped the 40oz and started to run towards the parking lot in the direction of the Sabre GT.

Lola, frightened, clutched Niko and gave a faint squeal.

Niko floored the car in reverse, backing up and pulling a 180-degree turn out of the parking lot. The black gangbangers were out of the rearview mirror by the time Niko got onto the Expressway and headed off in an aimless direction.

Lola gripped Niko's arm, her free hand touching the breast of his fatigue jacket. "Ooh, what a nice chest." She purred.

Niko composed himself and kept driving, but when Lola's hands started to go down south towards the crotch of his cargo pants, Niko snapped at her, _"Enough!"_ He then felt the explorative hands recede; Lola pushed herself back towards the passenger-side of the two-door car. "Whatever, Russkie." She huffed.

"I'm not _Russian._" Niko growled, "Where to?"

"We're going to that sex shop in Hove Beach, on Delaware Avenue."

"Okay, countess." Niko turned right at an intersection and blended into the mid-afternoon traffic. To kill the time, he put on Electro-Choc, a radio station that featured clubbing/rave music, something that was popular in the United States of America. By 3:30 p.m., Niko and Lola had arrived at the sex shop on Delaware. The Slav reached the door of the shop and opened it, stepping on purple carpet and looking through pink-and-purple lighting on the ceiling. Racks of DVDs, toys, and magazines lined into two aisles, the walls were covered with portraits of nude models. IF99 crackled through the ceiling speakers. A door by the checkout counter led into a backroom A/V studio. The place looked like a dungeon of a nymphomaniac or pedophile's darkest fantasy. It was somewhere where Niko didn't want to be in for long.

The Slav moved out of the way so that Lola could enter. Niko barked, "Two minutes." But Lola held up a hand to shush him. She approached the counter where a man loomed over the cash register. She said something to the man and he went below the counter to retrieve an item from a locked glass cabinet. The item turned out to be a black dildo, which Lola stuck in her purse. She gave a wink to the clerk and asked, "Is Jerry still making pornos in his basement?"

"Yep." The clerk replied, not really caring but eyeing at the girl's erotic physique.

"Tell him to give me a cameo appearance." She winked at him again and the clerk nodded. Lola started to the door with Niko and started up the steps to the stolen Sabre GT. She got in and Niko asked her, "Where to, next?"

Lola said, "This drycleaners on Iroquois Avenue in Hove Beach."

Niko scoffed, "What, to pick up your short skirts?"

"No! There's this man who sells party treats out of it—a legitimate front. I need something to get me going, ya know what I mean?"

_Whatever, countess. _Niko thought as he started to drive to the dry cleaners, while Lola asked, "Niko, what do you do?"

The Serb responded, "I drive cabs for my cousin, Roman. That and, well, being errand boy for the criminal scum of Liberty City."

"You look like you just got off the boat, Niko," Lola snorted a laugh, "Did you walk here from nineteen eighty-five? Don't you know how to have a good time?"

_The last time I had a good time was with Roman at Burger Shot_. Niko thought. _Those Albanians made it worse for him._ However, Niko replied, "I guess not."

Lola said: "Aw, poor Russkie."

_I am not Russian_. Niko's mind simmered. But he composed himself and said softly, "I'm from Serbia."

"Okay."

The Sabre GT approached the drycleaners and Niko shut off the engine to allow Lola to get out. Unlike most Russian-owned businesses in Hove Beach, this one had Cyrillic lettering on the sign, advertising: "WASH, CLEAN, ALTERATIONS". Being a thriving metropolis, new dry cleaners were popping up all over Liberty City. A man was standing outside with a power-washer machine, blasting high-velocity jets of water at the stubborn brick structure, erasing gang graffiti. Niko stepped inside the drycleaners and found himself looking at brand-new, dollar-accepting washers while the older, thudding coin-tray jalopies stuttered in back. The place had black lacquered countertops, a soda machine, communal coffee, and a wooden bead maze table game for the kids. Bulletin boards were stuck with business cards, lost pet flyers, meager guitar lesson and Liberty City Swingers baseball pamphlets.

Niko watched Lola from behind the second row of dryers as she approached the counter and say, "Hi, Viktor."

Viktor, the grizzled Ukrainian proprietor acknowledged Lola by her first initial, "L". he then asked her, "MDMA, Ludes, Marijuana? Oxy? Percocet? Robitussin?"

Lola shrugged off every drug offer thrown at her. She replied, "You know I only come here for the usual."

Viktor smiled, revealing a crooked-toothed grin. He laughed quietly, "Ah, yes, forgive me." He then reached under the counter and retrieved a small baggie tied off with a red Twistix tie. Inside were two rocks of crack cocaine.

In return, Lola peeled off three $50 bills from her wallet—totaling $150 for the two rocks. He handed them to Viktor, who put them not in the cash register till but in a chrome money-clip in his pocket. He gave her the same crooked-toothed grin, saying, "_Goodbye, my bunny,"_ in a raspy Ukrainian accent. He then punctuated, "You should check out the warehouse party in Port Tudor, just after the bridges open up.

Lola smiled, "Thanks, Viktor. Sounds like fun." With a gleam in her eye she turned around and sauntered out of the store with Niko beside her. They were back in the Sabre GT and moving again on Oneida Avenue. Niko asked her, "What now?"

"Take me home, baby, Rotterdam Hill, 18181 Ellery Street."

_Thanks be to God_! Niko almost wanted to scream it in Serbian, but he thought otherwise. At least this prostitute's needs are met for today. It was time he stopped chauffeuring cheap floozies and got back to his cousin's cab business. By the time Niko arrived at the exact address, Lola pressed a crumpled piece of paper into Niko's hand. "Here's my number," she explained, "Our fun's only starting." She smiled and gave Niko a wink as she exited the Sabre GT and walked up to her front door. Niko watched her enter unit 18181 and shut the door, then he drove off, calling Sammy on the cell phone. "Hey, Sammy? Your girl's dropped off. I took her the places she wanted to go."

Sammy was happy, _"Yah, you did good, Rasta, respect. Call me again tomorrow and I'll have more work for you."_

Niko hung up and concentrated on driving. It was then Roman called him and said, _"Niko! I've got everything in the office under control. Those Albanians are forgotten—things are looking brighter now!"_

"I sure hope so, cousin." Cautioned Niko sheepishly.

"Call me again to accept a fare or if you just want to hang out." Roman seemed distracted as he went to the CB radio, speaking into it, "Mohammed, head to Willis, move your ass!"

Niko drove to the apartment and parked the stolen car in the residents' lot. Then he got out and went up the stairs to the apartment and unlocked the door. The same, fat rat was lying on the floor, gorging itself on trash that was strewn all over the apartment's kitchenette and bedroom. Something had to be done. Niko took out the Glock, racked a shell in the chamber, and pointed it at the fat rat's small, diamond-shaped head. The rat stared up at the Serb, and, before it could move, Niko fired two shots into the rat's head and thorax. Death was instantaneous.

_There._ Niko huffed. He searched the refrigerator, finding chilled pizza boxes and a Styrofoam container of sweet-and-sour chicken that was past its prime. Niko groaned, slid the safety on and put the gun into the waistband of his pants, and then settled in for an afternoon nap.

* * *

_**A/N: **In Chapter 06 "When the Women Come Out To Dance", we get to see Niko babysit Lola and his cousin in Hercules dance club later that night_.

_(Chapter 06 will be posted tomorrow or sometime thereafter)_


	6. Chapter 06: When Women Come out to Dance

_**A/N:** Congrats for those of you who've hung in there! My schoolwork was dragging me down, so, i stopped writing for a while and put the "GTA IV: Give Me Liberty" on the back burner. Now, i'm back with Chapter 06 of "GTA IV: Give Me Liberty" with Niko and Lola and Roman in one of Gay Tony's clubs, Hercules. This chapter does have some sexual content, mind you, and is a bit luvvy-duvvy than the other chapters. It appears that Niko has finally found love in Liberty City._

_Rest of Chapter 06 will be uploaded soon_

* * *

**CHAPTER 06: WHEN THE WOMEN COME OUT TO DANCE  
**  
The apartment door opened to reveal Roman Bellic, carrying a plastic bag filled with takeout food from some Korean place on Earp Street. Niko awoke to find Roman clearing off the table and settling down to eat. In between bites of pulgok, he asked his cousin, "How are you?"  
"Fine, Roman. I met a girl today."

Roman beamed as he stood up from the table to go to the refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of E-Cola. "A girl, eh? And how beautiful is she?"

"Well," Niko explained, "She is very beautiful, her face like angels, bosom like an upside-down heart, and a nose that she can wrinkle on command like bunny rabbits." (He wanted to also say, "Physique like Novgorod whore", but he wanted to keep Roman guessing.

Roman smiled, "So, I guess you are making it in Liberty City, eh? What is this amorous angel's name?"

"Lola Del Rio." Niko sighed, getting up from the bed on his two feet and walking over to the table, where Roman handed him a second chilled can of E-Cola. "I know her from Mr. Nichoulausen, who works with Jermaine, one of your regulars."

Roman sat down and popped the top off his cola can before enjoying the rest of the cheap takeout Korean food. "Cousin, Let me caution you about American women: first of all, they can lie better than any woman in Europe. Two, they can spend money they don't have, even your money, cousin. They can bankrupt you in heartbeat and simply just move onto the next sugar daddy who drives a Sentinel and has penthouse in Algonquin."

"I didn't know you were this superstitious about women, eh, Roman?"

"I have Mallorie, who is a loyal employee of Bellic Enterprises, a trusting woman. This Lola that you speak of, where is she from?"

_"I don't know."_ Niko replied, spooning some green cabbage with rice into his mouth.  
"Is she a hooker?" Roman butted in.

Niko choked and coughed on his cabbage. He righted himself and swallowed hard, "No."

Roman sucked his E-Cola thirstily, "Listen, cousin, we all have times where we earn a little scratch on the side. I, for one, slept under my desk for a month until I could get the rent for the apartment—the apartment you thought was so _shitty_."

"Mr. Nichoulausen hired me to protect her, to help her out, until the bridges open again."

Roman chuckled, "You mean, 'be her sugar daddy?'"

_ "What?"_

"An ATM machine, her on-hand bank account? Listen to me, Niko, don't go falling head over heel in love for this Lola girl. Even if the Jamaicans pay you, think of all the trouble you could get in. Like STD or a stint in jail. Thank you for helping me out with the Albanians, Niko. But who's going to come to your rescue when those Jamaicans see you as a loose end?

Niko gazed into the half-empty takeout box full of greasy _kimchi, _taking Roman's words to heart. "_I don't know."  
_  
Roman grunted and backhanded tossed the empty E-Cola can and takeout box in the trash can. He stood up from his seat and grabbed his keys, saying, "Niko, let's go clubbing!"

"What?"

Roman wanted to shake his cousin until his teeth rattled inside his skull, "Loosen up, cousin! Think of all the drugs you can do, alcohol you can drink, all the titties that you can pinch!"

Niko gave Roman a serious look: "I'll probably end up in jail because of you, Roman."

Roman shrugged him off, "I just want to show you a good time, Niko. You're new in the country. I know what happened last night was bad with those Albanians, but this time I really mean it."

Niko buried his head in his arms, trying to clear his head. "Alright, where are we going?"

"It's called 'Hercules' in Steinway, close to Bohan. I'll let you know when we're there." Roman started to the door and opened it, climbing down the stairs to the residents' lot. He asked Niko, "By the way, where did this car come from?"

_If I told you, cousin, I would kill you._ Niko thought as he climbed into the Sabre GT and started it up, Roman sliding into the passenger seat. On the way, Niko got out his cell phone, and, with one hand steadying the wheel, called Lola. _"Hello?"  
_  
"Lola, it's me, Niko. Do you want to go out with me and my cousin tonight?"

Her sexy voice sounded interested, _"Okay, where?"_

Niko said "Hercules", to which Lola replied, _"Oh, run by Gay Tony? Okay, sure. Pick me up in Rotterdam Hill in 30 minutes."_

Niko turned left onto Iroquois Avenue and told Roman, "Cousin, ready to meet Lola?"

"I am if you are." Roman put on some Radio Vladivostok as his cousin drove up to the townhouses in Rotterdam Hill and stopped the car. Niko got out and went up to Lola's door and pushed the doorbell. Niko heard chimes ringing inside the house.

The door opened a crack, signaling the length of a security chain. The voice behind it was sensual, "Yes?"

Niko replied, "It's me, ready to go?"

"Oh, sure baby." The door shut, the scraping of the security chain being removed, and then the door opened wider again, revealing Lola Del Rio, dressed in a red halter top with a black skirt, still sucking on a lollipop like a teething infant. It was then Niko walked her down the steps to the idling Sabre and folded the seat forward so she could climb into the back. Niko then pulled the seat back again, and got into the Sabre and started off towards Steinway.

Roman introduced himself, "Hey, beautiful, I'm Roman Bellic, CEO of Bellic Enterprises."

_Oh, God!_ Niko almost burst out laughing. "It's true, Lola, my cousin's a rising entrepreneur in this city."

Lola rolled the sucker around in her mouth. "Hmm. Sounds interesting."

Niko swerved around some stopped cars in the clogged intersection before arriving in a parking lot connected to a low-roofed building that advertised "HERCULES" in flickering neon. The time was 09:45 p.m. on Niko's phone as he exited the car first and pulled the seat inward so that Lola could get out. There was already a line of people waiting to have their IDs checked before entering the club. Roman went first, showing him his passport before being allowed to go inside. He called out, "Ladies, hide your titties!" before vanishing through the door.

Niko gulped as he got out his identification card, issued in Belgrade before the second civil war in 2002. The birth-date listed was 02/10/1975, giving Niko's age as twenty-seven. However, war changes man, so in February 2010, Niko was now in his mid-thirties, and already a miserable, impoverished illegal immigrant inside of Liberty City. Niko watched as the club bouncer, a burly black man go over his ID like a trained customs inspector at Francis International Airport. Seconds seemed like hours before Niko heard the bouncer say, "Okay, go ahead," giving Niko his ID back and allowing him to enter the club.

_Okay. _Niko thought as he got inside, the club music thumping like a beating heart closer and closer to the dance floor. _Where's Roman?_ The Serb went down the stairs to the dance floor, finding mobs of people doing a dance to the tune of "Bus Stop". A blue-lit bar counter was to the left of the floor, and already Roman was indulging in the drink. Niko went over to him, but felt something brush up against his shoulder. It was Lola, sucking on a lollipop, her hips swaying back and forth to the _thump-thump-thump_ of the club music.

"Come on, countess," Niko took her hand and led her through the crowded dance floor. It was then Lola spun around and faced Niko, and pulled him onto the dance floor. Two minutes later, the DJ changed songs to "Pursuit of Happiness Remix" by Kid Cudi. The lights dimmed to a dark blue and the crowd roared as the song came over the speakers. "C'mon, Nicky," Lola was bubbly now as she swayed back and forth like a trained dancer. Niko moved back and forth as well, but slowly and laboriously. He broke away for a while to get a drink with Roman. Roman asked him in a slurred tone, "Feeling free yet, cousin? After all, this is America—the land of freedom and opportunity!"

Niko ordered a shot of vodka and the bartender got to work. Niko responded to Roman's question by saying, "Yeah. I feel free in all sorts of ways. Lola is happy, too." He drank down the shot, ordered another, and then drank that too.

Roman replied, "At least you're taking good care of her, Niko. Who knows? Maybe one day she'll give up the street life and move in with you."

"If I can get a place of my own."

"Which will come soon, cousin. My cab company is going to work out as it should have. Two years of planning will pay off soon, just you wait and see. Soon, Bellic Enterprises will expand to Vice City, Washington D.C., San Fierro, Los Santos, Venturas, Colorado Springs, Tucson, Dallas, everywhere!"  
"_Yeah, yeah,_" Niko replied as he pushed his shot glass aside and went back to the dance floor. A new song had come on: "Kid Conga" by MC. Niko had found Lola and began to dance with her—she bumping and grinding onto Niko's front. The Serb shrugged it off, but Lola pulled him in closer until they were together as one on the dance floor.

Niko fell into her arms and started to dance. They melded into the crowd on the dance floor, and, at last, Lola shifted the lollipop to her other cheek and kissed Niko. It was a long kiss, so long that when they parted, a string of saliva bridged between them.

Niko's eyes widened like saucers, his hand wiped off the saliva on his mouth, afraid of catching herpes or HIV or some shit. His mind screamed "_What was that?"_, although it was quickly overshadowed by a tingle in his crotch, his cock hardening like a pointer setter. The thought of the redheaded Lola hardening his cock made the Serb's nose twitch, his mouth water.

Lola took Niko's hand and pulled him off the dance floor and past the bar, up the stairs to the bathroom. There, they stepped into a blue-lit, blue-tiled room, finding it completely empty. It was then Lola sat on the sink counter and began to kiss her Slavic protector passionately.

Niko could no longer contain himself, for his emotions climaxed and they kissed more and more, tugging at each other's clothing. It was then Lola pulled away, "_Goddamn _Nicky!" she laughed, "At least give me a few minutes to catch my breath?"

Niko backed away from her, zipping up his green army jacket before returning to Lola's embrace. They kissed one last time, and their lovemaking reached a climax. _"Only in America_!" Niko thought out loud to himself, thinking of Lola's chestnut hair, her handful-sized breasts, the sweet smell of her skin. They just didn't make women like these in the Balkans or along the Adriatic.

Lola smiled down at Niko as she took another strawberry sucker from her purse and unwrapped it, sticking it in her mouth and saying to him, "I never felt like such a woman before."

"That was incredible." Niko told her. "You're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met."

Together they walked out of the bathroom, past an ape-like black bouncer and down the stairs to the populated dance floor. There, Roman was trying his fancy footwork with a blonde Midwestern housewife. But when he saw Niko, he broke away from her, stumbling a little, before reaching his cousin. "Niko, _what's up?"_  
Niko noticed beer on Roman's breath, his lopsided stance, and his slurred speech, and noticed that he was drunk. "I should say 'what's up' to _you_, cousin."

"Are you having a good time?"

"I am, and you are drunk."

"No! The night's just starting."

Niko backed away from the horrible stench from Roman's mouth, "Look, cousin, I'll call you a cab to take you home. Right now, I have to take Lola back to her place, alright?"

Roman huffed, "Okay—but don't wait up for me, Niko. You and your countess head on home, I'll be fine."

And with that, Niko and Lola walked out of Hercules together, hand-in-hand, out to the Sabre GT. Niko got into the car and started it up, and then pulled away from the club entrance and melted off into the night.

* * *

Niko stopped in front of Lola's apartment in Rotterdam Hill close to 11:45. He switched off the engine and for a while, the two sat there in silence, contemplating the good time they'd had together. Then, Lola spoke up, "Thanks, Nicky."

"You're welcome."

Lola reached over to Niko's side and kissed him on the lips, pushing her hair out of his face as she did it. Niko returned the favor, and then, as quick as it had begun, it was over. Niko watched as Lola got out of the Sabre and started up the stairs to her apartment alone, without her gentleman caller.

Niko turned the key and the car roared to life again. As he watched Lola disappear through the doorway, he thought what Roman had told him about his many girlfriends in his emails to Niko and his mother back in Belgrade. Roman had Mallorie, a hardworking, loyal employee of "BELLIC ENTERPRISES" and Niko had Lola, a streetwalking prostitute in a fix because of the mayor's fear campaign about terrorism. At last, one part of the American Dream had been achieved for the pensive and thuggish Niko Bellic.

Niko pulled the Sabre into traffic and drove towards his cousin's apartment in Broker. He parked the car in the alley behind the complex and entered the back door up to Roman's apartment. Niko then opened the door and went to bed feeling alleviated of his past stress from the previous nights...

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
